Nemesis Rising
by dancinglemur
Summary: Optimus Prime had fallen, and now only Nemesis remained. And Nemesis belonged to HIM. Megatron/Oprimus Nemesis Prime.


**A/N: **I... ah... I honestly don't know what to say about this one. AND I CAN'T EVEN BLAME IT ON YOU, ONI, BECAUSE THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY ALL ON ME. For encouraging me to _post _it, however, you are firmly to blame AND THAT IS MY STORY AND I AM STICKING TO IT. (Nevermind that your reaction to it made me grin and go all fuzzy inside I mean whut?) Anyways, um, this was totally inspired by the latest TFA epsiode, _Human Error (pt 1)_, and that last little snippet at the end where **(SPOILERS)** OP's optic snaps on and it's red. Because rockgod!Soundwave is back and awesome and has reprogrammed them all. And because the one pairing (besides StarscreamxSkyfire and TCxWarp) I absolutely cannot resist is OPxMegs, and especially _TFA _OPxMegs. The Nemesis bit is the fault of the Animated community on LJ and the thread about this episode, aaaand, that about covers it.

Also: This is rated M for a _reason_. Yeah. Plug & Play, mostly, with maybe some vaguely sticky elements to it and some spark-play.

One last thing: I'm aware the title is horribly cheesy. I'M TIRED. I'll think of something more creative later, I promise...

* * *

Well, this was a surprising thing to return to. A pleasant surprise, unlike the time Starscream had planted a "welcome back" bomb underneath his throne after he'd been off to a secluded asteroid to pick up a report Shockwave had had to deliver in person.

No, this was _much _better.

Though he had to admit, he was surprised to see Soundwave there. "Soundwave," He greeted the drone-turned-soldier coldly. "What a surprise to see you fully functional."

Soundwave's visor flashed briefly and he bowed stiffly. "Greetings, Megatron," He said in his melodic monotone. There was a brief moment of hesitation, and then he stepped back, beckoning for the Supreme Commander to follow. "Request: Follow."

He turned and moved deeper into the room he had emerged from. Megatron was a bit slow to follow, but this was his ship and he knew that the room into which Soundwave was leading him was an unused storage area. Still, Lugnut stayed firmly at his elbow, and Megatron could not say he was displeased with the fanatical 'Con's presence this time. Soundwave was an unknown factor, a loose cannon, and they had not parted on the best of terms.

But then his musings on Soundwave's purpose here were interrupted when he say just what Soundwave had waiting for him in the previously empty storage room.

All five of the Earth-bound Autobots, not one or two but the full five with the little Prime included, were there, offline and appearing to have been so for quite some time. Lugnut froze, confusion and fury and tension coiling in his massive frame, but Megatron moved forwards to stand over the ragtag group's "leader." He tilted his head slightly to the side and nudged the offline mech's arm. No reaction. He was aware of Soundwave shifting nervously off to the side, but ignored him in favor of crouching down and grabbing the Autobot's jaw in one hand.

"Soundwave, what is the meaning of this?" He turned the unconscious Autobot's head side to side, taking in the slack blue features and sneering at the red face plastered across the younger mech's shoulder.

"Purpose: A… gift."

"For me?" He sneered. "How _sweet. _Last I saw you, you had denounced me and my cause and expressed a wish to become your own faction with your own purpose. Why the change?"

Soundwave hesitated slightly again. "Megatron: previously inferior. Currently: …superior. Fact: Supplies needed for own purpose not currently obtainable on own. …Conclusion: Need Megatron's assistance. Autobots: A gift and an example of the services I can provide."

"Hmmm, I must admit, I am impressed. My men have been trying to capture or exterminate these mechs for far too long, now, and here you stand with not one but all five. I admit I am intrigued." He stood and looked over the row of Autobots, all unconscious and with barely any damage done to them. "Despite your past endeavors, I believe there may be a place for you among my army once again."

Soundwave nodded his head gracefully in thanks.

"And yet…" He trailed off and the masked mech stiffened again. "I cannot help but wonder why, offline or not, they are not restrained." His narrowed red gaze shifted over to Soundwave. "Treachery is not tolerated, Soundwave, and those who plot against me are severely punished."

There was an eerie, proud gleam in Soundwave's visor, and Megatron got the feeling that the blue mech would be smirking if he could. "Restraints: unnecessary." He somehow managed to purr with his synthesized voice. "Demonstration: necessary." A panel flipped up on his arm and he tapped in a brief combination that let loose a few lilting notes from his speakers. The Autobots' systems began to power up at the music, and some of the Decepticons shifted backwards. Megatron remained standing over the little Prime, staring suspiciously at Soundwave.

"Suggestion: Observe." Was all the guitar-wielding mech said, gesturing at the bots who were now coming online.

Megatron did, and was again pleasantly surprised by what he saw. Optics as red as his own, narrowed sharply in suspicion as their owner evaluated the situation he'd woken to, stared up at him out of the Autobot's face. A quick glance to either side told him that the other four had also undergone the same change in optic color.

Optimus Prime slowly pushed himself to his pedes, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on Megatron the entire time, assessing and evaluating him, searching him for weaknesses. Though his movements were not as graceful as they usually were because he had just come out a stasis that had lasted who knew how long, he still moved with a deadly fluidity that sent an appreciative hum through Megatron's systems.

"…Megatron," He eventually said, his voice even and strong as he straightened to his full height (which was, in comparison to Megatron, not very impressive) and tilted up his chin, giving the impression that he was much bigger then he actually was simply by filling the air with his presence.

Megatron tilted his head slowly to one side and _looked _at the Auto- no, at the Decepticon. The reprogramming had changed Optimus Prime, made him surer of himself, more confident in his own plating. Gone was the fumbling, hesitating youth he had faced before. Here now was a _leader, _a mech who he could already see was capable of handling himself more then competently and giving orders he knew would be followed.

Megatron looked at what had once been Optimus Prime, and found himself very pleased with what he saw.

* * *

The Decepticon programming had, for the most part, completely integrated into each of the ex-Autobot's systems. In some more then others. In Bulkhead it had done the bare minimum – the giant was loyal to the cause, yes, but was not as Decepticon as the others. Whereas Bumblebee had taken eagerly to the vicious, violent side of their cause, and Prowl had been subtly transformed, unleashed, into a quiet, deadly monster contained within his pretty black frame by only the bounty hunter who had claimed him as a partner, Ratchet had stayed mostly the same but lost the last of the inherent Autobot kindness, and Bulkhead was now little more then a drone. The green space bridge technician had been _too _Autobot – his teammates had had programming flaws, glitches where the usual goody-goody Autobot behavior was threaded through with subtle errors that had given them behaviors that were somehow inherently Decepticon in nature. Soundwave's programming had merely seized upon those errors and expanded them.

Except with Bulkhead. But, then again, the fact that his lingering Autobot tendencies were so much stronger then his teammates' could be because Soundwave had proved himself to be just sadistic enough to trap his rival within his own body like that, helpless to watch as he teammates thrived in their new Decepticon lives and how he himself was slowly succumbing to the same.

Ratchet, too, (or Hook, as he was now called) had been, like Prowl, not so much transformed as subtly changed. The Great War had broken him, stripped him of all but the dregs of his Autobot ideals, and all the holes left in his psyche had made it almost laughably easy for Soundwave to slip in and rearrange the furniture, so to speak.

But where his teammates had (with the exception of the ninjabot) merely taken in their new programming and acted accordingly, Optimus Prime had taken to Soundwave's programming and his new Decepticon life with a vicious, brutal, _effortless _grace that suggested a predisposition for the Decepticon way of life had already been ingrained in his being.

Megatron had known the little Prime had been kicked out of the Autobot Academy, but perhaps that had less to do with past transgressions then he had thought. Nemesis – he had renamed himself, saying disdainfully that "Optimus" was too Autobot for his taste, even if it did mean "the best of the best" – was the perfect example of what a Decepticon should be. Brutally efficient, intelligent, strong, fast, graceful, resourceful, deadly, and fully possessing the naturally dominant air of a leader. He was what Starscream had been before the Seeker had lost himself to his own ego and overinflated sense of self-importance, and by watching Nemesis Megatron was reminded of all that he had once found attractive in Starscream.

However, as with Starscream, it was clear that Nemesis would have to be constantly reminded that _Megatron _was the one in charge, not he.

And, as he had long since ceased to with Starscream, Megatron found himself relishing the idea of teaching Nemesis just _who _was the master here with a slow, burning anticipation.

* * *

"You grow too bold."

Megatron's voice filled the dark room, empty but for the two of them, pouring into Nemesis' audios and curling around him with a sort of heated possessiveness that shouldn't have been possible to convey with just a voice. But then, Megatron always had been the one being capable of taking the impossible and making it possible.

"You're being vague." Nemesis shot back, narrowing his optics at the barely-visible form of Megatron. Inwardly, though, he knew what this was about. This was about how he had yet to bow to Megatron and address him as "Lord" or "Master" like the others had. Well, let them bow and grovel. He would not. He refused to accept Megatron as leader until the other proved he was worth the position. And until he had proved just that, Nemesis would continue to test the boundaries.

A thick, purring chuckle echoed out into the room, drawing Nemesis forwards as surely as if Megatron was pulling him closer by a leash around his neck. The ex-Autobot's engine snarled as he realized that comparison was uncomfortably close to what Megatron doubtlessly wanted to accomplish through this little "personal session."

"Don't make yourself out to be less intelligent then you are, little Prime," Megatron purred, using that cursed pet name again. And there that word was again. Pet. "You know _exactly _what this is about."

"If by that you mean how I refuse to demean myself by groveling before you and licking your pedes like some sort of _pet,_" He spat the word back, "If by that, you mean how I refuse to fully accept you as leader until you prove that you are the only one _worthy _of such a position, then I think I am not too bold at--"

Megatron was off of his throne and slamming him into the wall before he could finish hissing that sentence. Nemesis snarled, clawing at the heavy hand circled around his throat and kicking out at Megatron's neck and chest.

The silver giant grunted as one kick connected painfully with his abdominal plating, and then gave a short shout and was forced to relinquish his hold on the smaller Decepticon when Nemesis reached out and somehow managed to jam his fingers into the vulnerable wiring of Megatron's upper arm and pull out several sensitive wires.

Nemesis dropped and landed perfectly on his feet and was immediately darting to the side, out from under Megatron's reach. His snarling visage was covered as his battlemask snapped closed over his lower face and he reached for the axe he did not have before he remembered that it was law that all who were alone with Megatron in the throne room be completely stripped off all weapons.

That mistake was the opening Megatron needed, and he charged forwards with a wide grin. Nemesis' optics narrowed and Megatron was sure the smaller mech was snarling underneath his mask. Well, that wouldn't do. While the mask did help him appear more intimidating in battle, Megatron preferred to watch all the emotions play across the ex-Autobot's surprisingly expressive faceplates, especially how his mouth would twitch and twist when he was angry.

While Nemesis had proved himself to be surprisingly adapt at hand-to-hand combat, he still stood no chance against the larger, stronger, and more experienced Megatron, so the two spent most of their fight darting around each other, Nemesis always somehow managing to stay _just _out of Megatron's reach.

Unfortunately, this required him to keep all of his attention on Megatron, which in turn made it laughably easy to box the mech into a corner.

By the time Nemesis realized he had been outmaneuvered, it was too late for him to do more then snarl a furious "No!" and lunge for the small gap between Megatron's looming chassis and the wall. It was a futile gesture, and ended only with him pressed awkwardly into the floor with Megatron's heavy weight straddling his hips from behind.

A deep, purring laugh came from the warlord as the Prime continued to struggle, hissing and spitting and clawing angrily at the floor with his only free hand. Megatron leaned down over his prize, one of his hands trapping Nemesis' free one to the floor while the other supported his weight next to the smaller bot's head, and purred directly into his audio, taking delight in the small shudders that elicited.

"You have a long way to go until you can even _dream _of replacing me as leader, little Prime." He took a moment to enjoy how Nemesis' struggled renewed at his use of the hated nickname, enjoying how the slim mech writhed and bucked beneath him, already imagining almost-identical situations where Nemesis was writhing for a_ different_ reason.

"Don't _call _me that." Nemesis hissed venomously.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Megatron mocked, shifting backwards a bit so that he could take his weight off his supporting hand and use it to stroke the other's masked cheek. "I can't hear you when you wear this silly mask…"

Fury flashed through the mech trapped beneath him, and the mask snapped back so quickly that it scraped the paint off of Megatron's fingers. But the tyrant only purred and lowered his face further to nuzzle against the ex-Autobot's exposed face. He purred, enjoying the feeling of soft dermaplates beneath his rougher ones. But then he was rather rudely interrupted by an elbow shooting up to catch him sharply under the chin, snapping his denta together painfully onto his glossa.

Megatron roared and slammed the escaped arm back down onto the floor. And if something in his arm snapped because of the awkward angle at which he had done so, what of if? Nemesis did sometimes get too insolent for his own good.

Speaking of Nemesis, the Prime had jerked and sucked in a sudden ventful of air when his arm had snapped, but he did not scream. Instead, he forced himself to relax under Megatron's unforgiving hold, breath hissing back out unsteadily as he grit his teeth and bore the pain without complaint.

Megatron's grin widened and his circuits heated further. Eons of Starscream's constant whining over the smallest scratch made Nemesis' silent endurance all the sweeter.

"Now," He purred, his engine rumbling against Nemesis' back. "Are you going to play nice and let me turn you onto your back, or do I have to keep you like you are now?"

Nemesis growled. "_Keep _me? I am not a pet to be kept!!"

"Again with this pet business."

"You're trying to turn me into one!! I am already gawked at like some sort of oddity, and I am barely ever allowed to refuel myself without a _keeper _hovering over me!! I am under constant surveillance even though I have proved myself more Decepticon then mechs who have been in this army for centivorns!! I am not even allowed to go out into battle or near any sensitive information in fear that my old, obsolete programming will somehow reassert itself even though in all the time I have been here it hasn't so much as glitched!! Apparently, then, the only thing I _am _kept here for is for your entertainment!! The only way I could be more a pet to you was if I had your collar around my neck!!"

Megatron imagined what Nemesis would look like with a collar –_his _collar- around his pretty little neck, and barely silenced his low moan of appreciation at that image. Too bad the little Prime was far too proud to allow such a thing. But perhaps with a little work…

"Oh, I don't know," He purred, curling one hand around Nemesis' neck and pulling back so that the bot had no choice but to arch up against Megatron to avoid breaking something in his neck. Megatron stroked the wires under his fingers and then tightened them slowly in a grip that could easily kill the younger mech if Megatron so wished. "You would look so pretty in a collar."

Nemesis hissed and narrowed his optics up at Megatron from the awkward angle at which his neck was twisted. "_Don't toy with me." _He hissed poisonously. Megatron's leer was positively eerie from the upside-down angle from which the ex-Autobot was viewing it. The tyrant's other hand came up to stroke the side of his face, and Megatron relished in the shivers he was able to cause in the other by dragging his fingers across the curved audio crest.

"Then stop making it so amusing."

Nemesis' optics narrowed. Megatron smirked. Nemesis tensed, knowing what was coming next.

"…little Prime."

Nemesis exploded, thrashing around and screeching expletives and obscenities at the top of his vocal range towards Megatron. He somehow managed to get his pedes beneath him and bucked sharply upwards, lifting his body weight off of his trapped arm and using it and his previously freed one to grab Megatron at the elbow and shoulder and flip him over onto his back with a thunderous bang.

Slightly stunned from the sudden meeting with the floor, Megatron was unable to stop Nemesis from swinging around and alighting on his chest, straddling the larger mech's waist in a mirror of their previous pose. Optics blazing blood red and so furious he was practically spitting sparks, Nemesis' lips pulled back over his denta (altered long ago so now they held the sharp fangs never found in Autobots' mouths) and he let loose a fearsome, hissing snarl as he jammed the fingers of both hands up to the knuckle into the sensitive wires of Megatron's bared neck, twining them around vital energon and nerve lines.

"I _said, _don't _toy _with me," He hissed, leaning in very close until their noses were almost touching. But he had forgotten one very important thing – Megatron's hands. They came up, grabbed Nemesis' hips and rolled them over so that Megatron was laying between Nemesis' legs, pressing the smaller bot into the floor.

The Prime bared his fangs and tugged harshly with the fingers still entangled in the wires of Megatron's neck, bringing their faces back close together. Their narrowed optics glared into each other from only a few inches apart, both silent as they evaluated the situation, each other, and their current positions. Nemesis was clearly not happy with his new submissive position, but even with his broken arm was comforted by how Megatron was clearly at his mercy for the moment. Megatron, however, thought the opposite. He was quite thoroughly enjoying his current resting spot between Nemesis' splayed thighs, but the threat the fingers in his neck could not go on ignored. He sent a critical gaze over the distance between their two faces, and then gave a viciously triumphant leer as he realized just how little space was between the two of them. Nemesis barely had time to give him a wary, distrustful look before Megatron suddenly lunged forwards and slanted his mouth over the smaller mech's.

The kiss was clumsy, which was only to be expected considering it was not an expression of affection or lust native to their species and only recently picked up from the humans, but it served its purpose of distracting Nemesis enough for his fingers to relax their deadly hold on Megatron's vital wires. The kiss itself wasn't really doing anything for either of them until Nemesis retaliated by biting down hard on Megatron's already abused glossa when it shoved into his mouth. Megatron stiffened and growled into Nemesis' mouth, biting down on a lip to get him to release his glossa. By the time he had earned his glossa back, Nemesis' blue lips were bruised and cut and energon from the both of them had smeared over his pouting mouth. Megatron rumbled appreciatively at the sight (Nemesis sprawled out beneath him, panting raggedly, cheeks flushed with heat and pouting mouth bitten and smeared with energon, and glaring defiantly up at him with smoldering optics), but cut the moment short by grabbing Nemesis' lax hands and wrenched them behind his back with a horrid grinding and squealing protest of gears and joints from the broken arm.

Nemesis howled, arching upwards and twisting futilely at the pain. Megatron hauled him up into a sitting position, still kneeling between his legs, crushing both his hands in one of his own. Nemesis spat and roared, trying to thrash around, but Megatron just pinned him closer to his own chassis, tucking his chin over one of the smaller mech's shoulder as his other hand reached around his captive's back to pry at one once-blue forearm, searching for the compartment in which Optimus Prime had stored his grapplers.

As he tore open the compartment and unraveled the thick wire coiled within, Nemesis twisted his head into the crook of Megatron's neck and bit in deep with his fangs, snarling around his mouthful. Megatron growled low into Nemesis' audio, and when the smaller mech replied by jerking his head back with the wires still trapped in his mouth, the growl increased in volume and Megatron was a bit harsher then was strictly necessary in wrenching Nemesis' hands together and binding them securely with the grappling wire up to the elbow.

His work done, Megatron now tried to lean back, only to be stopped short by the mouth of fangs still attached to his neck. His vents let out a hissing breath and he shifted on his knees, hands coming up to the Prime's shoulder and jaw even as one knee accidentally scrapped against Nemesis' codpiece. They were both surprised when that simple, accidental stimulation caused Nemesis' mouth to open and release Megatron's neck so that he could let out a low, sweet moan.

They both froze, Nemesis burning with humiliation and Megatron burning with something else entirely. A deep, predatory growl started rumbling deep in Megatron's frame, and Nemesis gave a shaky, uncertain, warning hiss and starting trying to push himself backwards away from the tyrant. It was a weakness, an opening, but Nemesis had clearly been shaken by what had just happened, and his defiance was forgotten in lieu of trying to put as much space as possible between him and Megatron.

His movement spurred Megatron into action, the primal growl that had been building ever since that first moan erupting from his vocalizer as he scooped Nemesis up, his larger hands curling around the sitting bot's aft, and lifted him right off the ground. Nemesis made a noise that he firmly told himself was most definitely _not _a surprised yelp as he was carried several steps and then dumped onto his aft again, this time with his legs splayed obscenely wide. He gaped up at Megatron as the older mech just continued to leer, taking hold of each of his ankles and hooking them over the arms of what he could now tell was none other then Megatron's own throne.

"Wh-what?" He choked, desperately trying to regain his bearings and some semblance of control over himself and the situation. But Megatron remained silent, setting one knee on the part of the seat not taken up by Nemesis and leaning over the slimmer mech, one hand curled around one of the arm rests and the other going straight for the panel he had accidentally scraped before. "What? No! Stop! Don't-!!" Nemesis' protests cut off into a long, harsh, almost whimpering moan as the other's broad, blunt fingertips dragged across his codpiece, stroking and caressing and claiming.

"Hmmm, are you sure?" Megatron purred into the crest of the other's helmet. "It doesn't _sound _like you want me to stop…" He stopped stroking and ground his heel into the panel he'd just been fondling.

"Nnnghhh – _fuck,_" Nemesis swore, voice rough and strangled, tossing his head side to side and thrusting his hips shallowly into the other's touch as the pressure Megatron's hand increased. Then his voice shot up into a shout and he arched beautifully, swearing brightly colored, filthy human expletives when Megatron suddenly stopped his petting, dug his fingers into the seam of the codpiece, and pulled it right off with little to no thoughts for gentleness or wrenched hinges. (He, disoriented by the sudden shock of pain through the haze of pleasure and even more disoriented with the discovery that the taste of pain intermixed with his pleasure was not unpleasant at all, missed how Megatron smirked and stowed his prize away in his subspace. If Nemesis wanted it back, he was going to have to _beg _the tyrant for it.)

His reaction earned him an amused chuckle.

"Reduced to human expletives already?" His tormentor purred, looming over him, taking up and blocking up the world until it was just the two of them. "How endearing."

"Yeah? Well fu—nngghh! Y-a-aah!!!!" Nemesis' head slammed back into the back of the throne so hard that it temporarily jarred his visual processors, temporarily streaking his sight with lines of static.

Megatron's leer widened even further, and he slowly scraped his fingertips over the bared line of ports once more. Nemesis' optics flared and a shout managed to slip through his clenched denta.

"Oh ho, what's _this?_" Megatron slowly circled the primary port's edge with one finger, making Nemesis whine and squirm and moan. Megatron's grin was sinister and delighted. "The little Prime has never before bared his ports to anyone? Has never before been touched in this manner?" He continued to fondle said ports as he spoke, actions giving the innocent tone a lewd tint.

"Sh-shut up," Nemesis hissed even as he groaned and his head fell back and his hips began to pump into Megatron's teasing hand. "D-don' mock meee…"

Megatron chuckled again; leaning in close to taste Nemesis' bared neck as he slowly sunk a single digit into the previously untouched port. Nemesis jolted upright with a howl, legs twitching as they tried to clench around Megatron's waist even though they were still slung over the arms of the throne.

"Mock you?" Megatron purred into his captive' neck, tracing a path up to a curved audio with his glossa and biting down lightly on the edges of it. "Now why would I want to do that, dear Nemesis? If you _had,_ I would have been _most _displeased. This saves me the trouble of having to hunt down whatever Autobot it had been and kill him for touching what belongs to _me, _as well as having the additional delight of being your first." He shoved a second finger in alongside the first, and relished the whimpering moan he got in return, drinking in the sight of Nemesis beneath him (face flushed, bitten lips gaping in gasping, panting, pleading moans, face twisted beautifully, thighs spread wantonly and hips pumping against his invading, claiming hand) like it was the finest high grade. "And I promise you that this will not be the last time I lay here."

Nemesis tried to snarl at him, but the fingers he had in the smaller mech's port stopped any protest. Nemesis, too new to this sensation, was helpless to do anything but lie there and take it, his hips already twitching and pumping desperately. However, though he had been robbed of physical resistance, he continued to keep up a low, snarling undertone of curses (most of which were aimed at Megatron), but this accomplished nothing more then adding to the silver mech's lust – Nemesis had a very smooth, very pleasing voice to listen to; hearing it hitching and gasping in time with the thrusts of his fingers, tightened with pleasure and want while it snarled the _dirtiest _things was almost as potent an aphrodisiac as his never-ceasing defiance.

Finally Megatron reached the limits of his patience with this part of the game and withdrew his fingers from Nemesis' port, relishing in the other's desperate whimper and futile thrusts into empty air as he tried to regain the stimulation, moving closer so that he was on his knees between Nemesis' spread legs and his hand moving to his own codpiece.

It took only moments for the offending piece of metal to be removed and cast aside, but after he pulled out the cables, Megatron's pace slowed significantly to a more teasing pace. Nemesis whined and continued to try and rub pleadingly against him, but received only teasing, fleeting caresses.

"Jus-just _do _it already!!" Nemesis tried to snarl. Megatron chuckled and continued to tantalizingly brush the tip of his primary cable against Nemesis' aching port. A desperate whine, begging but commanding, escaped the mech trapped underneath him, and Megatron decided to move on to the next level of teasing torment.

He only connected one way - his wires into Nemesis' ports - and was more then happy to use that one-sided connection to twist the energy flow between them into a feedback loop that quickly dragged Nemesis to the precipice and let him hang half over the edge, leaving him never quite able to move that last inch needed to fall.

And there he kept him.

Soon the proud, icy mech had been reduced to an enticing, whimpering, squirming, panting mess, incapable of doing anything more then moaning desperately, pleadingly, and tossing his head side to side.

"What was that, little Prime?" Megatron taunted, though his voice was noticeably tighter then it normally was. "Did you have something you wanted to ask of me?"

"Sssslagger," Nemesis hissed. Megatron retaliated by dipping him slightly over the edge and then yanking him harshly back to a safe distance at which he could cool down. Nemesis gave a scream of pure frustration, finally unhooking his feet from the throne's arms to cross them behind Megatron's waist and pull the larger mech back closer until their panels were grinding together again. Nemesis whimpered and writhed against him, still desperately trying to chase his overload to completion.

Hands on his hips, pressing them down into the massive chair and restricting his movement. Nemesis hissed weakly up at Megatron in rage at the theft of even that small freedom of movement and stimulation. Megatron just smirked down at him. "Impatient are we?" He murmured mockingly, caressing small circles into the black and purple plating with his fingertips.

"Why don't you plug me in?" The younger rasped, somehow managing to scrape together the coherence for a challenging statement and a mocking grin. "Afraid I can drive you to overload before I reach my own?"

Megatron's answering _look _sent delicious shivers up his spinal array.

"Awful cocky for a protoform not even through his first interfacing, aren't you, little Prime?"

"So you're saying you're scared?"

The other's grin sharpened to a knife's edge. "You are trying to bait me into a competition. Very well, little Prime, I accept your challenge." He reached down between them to unravel Nemesis' interfacing cords, rolling them between his fingers to make the other moan. "But let's make this more interesting, shall we?" He started plugging them into his own ports, going wonderfully, agonizingly slowly. "The first to bare his spark and overload must do one thing the victor wants, no matter what it is. Agreed?" He stroked the final unconnected cord, the biggest one, and waited for Nemesis' answer.

"Yes!! Yes, yes, _yes, _just put it _in, _already!!"

And, with a triumphant grin, Megatron did.

Nemesis never stood a chance. But he certainly put up an enjoyable struggle. Megatron resolved to repeat this activity _much _more often and as soon as possible.

The Prime, he had discovered while on his way to victory, made _very _un-Decepticon noises while in the height of passion. While he could snarl and growl and roar (and often did so, when he was in full possession of his senses), more common now were the moans and whimpers and breathless panting, accompanied by unconsciously enticing squirming. Megatron found he didn't mind this lapse in Soundwave's programming very much.

The throne room began to crackle with energy, and the sound of grunts and moans and protesting metal (as Megaton's fingers dug deep gouges from his throne and from Nemesis' dented plating), as they grew more frenzied. They rocked together, lost in their own little world, the universe narrowed down until only the two of them remained.

Then, finally, Nemesis lost. His chestplates gave only a moment's warning before splitting clean down the center and retracting to expose his glowing, flaring white spark. He panted curses and struggled to close them, but Megatron was suddenly _there, _hands pulling and grasping and stroking and caressing and claiming and making stars explode behind Nemesis' optics. His head fell back again, his heated panting and squirming increasing as he drew close to the edge again, closer and closer and closer and-

The touch pulled away, taking overload with it. Nemesis gave out a feral scream, but Megatron had him pinned so well to the throne that there was little more he could do besides screech and howl and thrash uselessly against his bonds.

"Maybe I should just leave you here like this," the overlord mused. "Sprawled out and restrained in all your shameful glory… face flushed, spark swollen, ports bared and sparking, for any one to come and _take._" He sent a surge over their connection in time with his last word, making Nemesis shake and cry out incoherently.

Wonderfully talented fingers dipped into his chest again, dancing around his spark chamber, teasing.

"Aaa-ahh!"

"What do you say, Nemesis?"

"G-go to the Pit!!"

"Tsk tsk, wrong answer. Maybe I'll just stop. Leave and call Blitzwing or Oil Slick in to finish the job."

"D-don't you _dare _stop, you slagger! I will fucking _end _you if—aaa-aahh!!" He arched and thrashed again under those fingers. Megatron grinned a panting grin, delighted with his pet.

"Then what do you _say_?"

"I – I – nngghh!!"

"Go on," He cooed encouragingly, still caressing the spark underneath his fingers. "Just one little word."

"Nnngh!!" Nemesis' head twisted wildly from side to side and his entire body shook with pent up energy. "I… I… PLEASE!!" He finally broke down and screamed, arching up into Megatron's touch. "Oh please oh please oh mighty Megatron _please-_"

And with a triumphant roar, Megatron's own chest plates slammed open and he lunged forwards to smash their sparks together.

Nemesis screamed and arched up underneath him, legs tightening around Megatron's waist and optics lighting up like beacons as his overload shot through him like lightning – powerful and bright and all-consuming. Megatron followed him over the edge a brief second later, giving a hoarse groan in companion to Nemesis's frantic, moaning scream.

* * *

Nemesis rebooted to find himself curled up in someone's lap. There were hands on his helm, petting his crest and audios in a comforting, claiming way, his arms were free and the sharp pain from his arm had died down to a dull ache, and overall he felt very satiated, very lazy and content.

And then he remembered that he was _in somebody's lap _and he was being _petted. _He immediately jolted upright, but only succeeded in upsetting himself and falling to the floor in an undignified pile at Megatron's feet. From there he gaped up in disbelief at the one whose lap he'd been sitting in (Megatron had been _petting _him. _Petting_) and was greeted with the sight of a very contented warlord who had his chin propped up on the back of one hand and was smirking down at him in a way he did not like.

"What…?" He trailed off, confused.

"You lost, Nemesis," Megatron's purr was rough from overuse. Nemesis wanted to tense and snarl at him, but found that the former made his chest (more specifically, his spark chamber) ache uncomfortably. It was probably not good that looking down to see that his chesplates were still open didn't surprise him as much as it should have. Thankfully, however, his sparkchamer (though exposed) was closed. But then, a closer inspection revealed that the steel-blue chamber was not as pristine as it had been previously.

Nemesis peered upside-down at the glyphs that had been shallowly carved into the sensitive metal, brow furrowing and lips moving silently as he tried to puzzle out what they…

A surprised yip escaped his vocalizer when he realized that his sparkchamber now bore Megatron's designation, and he slammed his chestplates closed and crossed his arms over it defensively, hissing venomously up at the far-too-amused Megatron. He gingerly got to his pedes (careful to avoid putting too much weight on his damaged arm) and started stalking towards Megatron with the intent to do harm in retaliation for the claiming, but Megatron held up a hand and commanded him to stop.

"You lost, Nemesis. And we had a deal, do you remember?"

Nemesis halted a safe distance away and grudgingly straightened, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Yes." He replied tersely.

"Yes… what, Nemesis?"

"Sir."

"Wrong."

Nemesis bared his fangs. "Lord," He gritted out, burning at the humiliation.

"Wrong again."

His optic blazed. "I hate you." He hissed. And then, petulantly, "Master."

Megatron's optics flared up in renewed arousal and his smirk broadened. "Very _good, _Nemesis." He crooked one finger, beckoning the other closer to his throne.

As he drew closer, Nemesis saw that Megatron actually had something in the hand not supporting his chin. He was turning that something over in his fingers, caressing the malleable length of it with a fierce, anticipatory possessiveness. It was something black, with familiar silver glyphs wrought into it, and adorned with the Decepticon symbol and a thick silver loop that looked like it could be used to thread a chain through the thing…

Nemesis halted in his tracks, staring at the collar with wide optics. That looked… expensive. And handcrafted. Not something that could have been requisitioned during the short time he had been unconscious. How long had Megatron been _planning _this?

"Come here, _pet._" Megatron purred, crooking the finger again. "You have a debt to uphold."

Circuits heating in something that wasn't quite rage or humiliation, Nemesis was helpless but to obey.

* * *

**A/N: **Ohgod, I still can't believe I actually _wrote _this. (Even if you _do _think it's the Awesomest Thing Since Sliced Bread, Miss Gil)


End file.
